Bass Guitarist Schmidt of Poco

‘I wake up and find you’re really not there’: the wallflower awaiting plucking, a bloom soon to be scattered to the wind.

Timothy, the prettiest and most retiring wallflower at the dance, is overjoyed when the handsome tough boys finally recognise his desirability and reward his patience by snapping their fingers for him to join them.

He jumps up with a shy delighted smile and demurely stretches out his hand, inwardly bracing himself for a wild and thrilling ride. Only to be bewildered and disconcerted when all of a sudden the music stops, the lights come on and the party’s over. Somehow he has been cheated of his moment of glory.

He’s been whirled dizzyingly round the floor once in a delirious haze under the magical flickering light patterns cast by the mirror ball, then abruptly relinquished – to reel, flounder and fall in fluorescent relief.

His head is still spinning. Everything was so vivid and so real. It felt like he was finally in a blissful state of abandon he could call home. Like he was where he’d always known he belonged. The boys’ grip was so firm and proprietary, yanking him around and showing him off like their latest flame, before they so unceremoniously let him go. He turns in a quandary of despair to see them swagger out the door.

They’d whisked him away like a tornado through a Kansas cornfield, before redepositing him in the windswept farmyard in just the same cavalier fashion. Exhilarated and breathless, this brusque relegation to his humdrum existence leaves him as disenchanted as the Pevensey children catapulted back from a glorious and action-packed sojourn in Narnia to the stark reality of wartime air raids in the Blitz. And with a fourteen-year yearning for a similarly invigorating sequel.

Unexpectedly at the end of his tether and disappointed down to his soul, he breathes out a soft yet undeniably exasperated sigh, drops his head, glances away. Picks himself up from the sticky parquet and dusts off his best dungarees.[1]

‘We make it harder than it has to be’: No one can rock big headphones like TBS.

Last blog on Timothy at 

With a second part at

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[1] His dream, ‘his super dream’, as he calls it in interview, is dashed almost at the point of its realisation. When he’s told that it’s over, he confesses, ‘I didn’t wanna hear it.’ No wonder that, once informed that a reunion may be on the cards, he tried to be cautious, confiding, that, though excited, ‘I didn’t want to get too excited.’ Once bitten. Luckily, the second time around has lasted a lot longer.


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